


'Til All My Sleeves Are Stained Red

by destielsdessert



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cutting, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Hugs, Jack Feels, Jack Has Issues, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester Bonding, Jack Needs a Hug, Protective Dean Winchester, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, accidental suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 07:21:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17824394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielsdessert/pseuds/destielsdessert
Summary: It's one of the hottest summers they've had in years and even the bunker's air conditioning doesn't do much to stifle the heat.Dean shifts uncomfortably, becoming increasingly aware of the waves of body heat emanating from Jack. Actually, now that he thinks about it, Jack is wearing a sweater. He's in a sweater in a heat that's leaving Dean near-burning wearing a t-shirt.Okay, Jack has his quirks, but surely the kid would be more comfortable in something a bit thinner? "Hey," Dean says, nudging Jack's shoulder."You're not too hot?" Dean asks, gesturing to the odd choice of clothing.Jack's eyebrows furrow, shaking his head just slightly. "No, Dean, I'm okay."Dean nods as if he's alright with that answer but when Jack tilts his head a certain way, the light catches his face and Dean can see a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead. Jack is lying.





	1. Just Don't Ask Me What It Was

**Author's Note:**

> i dont even know what this is, i just wanted some dean and jack.

Dean is sitting in the library when he first notices Jack's strange behaviour.

It's one of the hottest summers they've had in years and even the bunker's air conditioning doesn't do much to stifle the heat. Dean is stuck between locking himself in the freezer or making himself a literal ice bath and it feels horrible but almost nice at the same time, that for once they have something 'normal' to complain about.

He's doing his best to distract himself, touching up on some lore from the books he knows he's read the least. If he's honest, it's not distracting him at all, but he's got an ice cold glass of water and that's all he can really do to cool himself down because he's already in a t-shirt and shorts (and Dean doesn't normally _do_ shorts, but now seems like desperate times).

A wave of frustration hitting him, Dean slams his book shut. It must be a pretty heavy book because the sound causes the boy sitting next to Dean to flinch despite his headphones and that alerts Dean to the fact that Jack is sitting right next to him. Hell, maybe the book distracted him more than he thought because he does not remember Jack sitting there the last time he looked up.

Jack quickly turns his attention back to the laptop in front of him and whatever cartoon it is that he's watching - probably something Sam recommended; Dean can't keep up anymore - but Dean can't help but wonder why the kid is sitting so close. There's an entire table right here and normally Jack keeps the space - not too much, but he usually leaves a seat or so between whoever else is sitting at the table. That's just what they do.

But Jack is sat in the seat _right next_ to Dean and Dean isn't complaining, of _course_ he isn't, he's just surprised. Maybe Jack is going through some sort of clingy phase or something - Sam used to go through those a lot (Dean would say he found it annoying, but it was mostly downright adorable). He won't question it though, because Jack is likely to take it the wrong way because he has a habit of doing that. Again, not that Dean is complaining, but he's still learning his way around Jack and he doesn't exactly want to get into the habit of upsetting the kid.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, becoming increasingly aware of the waves of body heat emanating from Jack. Actually, now that he thinks about it, Jack is wearing a sweater. He's in a sweater in a heat that's leaving Dean near-burning wearing a t-shirt.

Okay, Jack has his quirks, but surely the kid would be more comfortable in something a bit thinner? "Hey," Dean says, nudging Jack's shoulder.

Jack pauses his cartoon and moves his headphones so they're hanging around his neck. He waits patiently for Dean to continue, almost curious as always.

"You're not too hot?" Dean asks, gesturing to the odd choice of clothing. He can't understand how Jack is even remotely comfortable wearing what he's wearing.

Jack's eyebrows furrow, shaking his head just slightly. "No, Dean, I'm okay."

Dean nods as if he's alright with that answer but when Jack tilts his head a certain way, the light catches his face and Dean can see a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead. Jack is lying. He lets it drop though, because if Jack wants to lie then he clearly has a reason, and Dean can't think how it might be something dangerous or terrible or anything like that. Maybe it's just another phase.

Dean struggles to let himself believe that.

 

* * *

 

Jack is definitely acting clingy.

At least, Dean thinks he is.

He might be overreacting. He probably is. He's sure he's seeing a lot more of Jack lately though, specifically when Sam and Cas aren't around. Maybe Dean has just become far too adjusted to his solitude, far too entitled to his time alone.

Not that he minds spending time with Jack. It's almost revitalising, actually. Jack is like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy bunker most of the time, sometimes less so. But Dean can never find reason to complain. Sure, it's annoying sometimes when Jack asks the small questions (like, "Dean, why are they called 'Rice Krispies'?" because who the hell knows the answer to that? So Dean more often than not refers the kid to Google), but Dean just has to remind himself that Jack isn't as old as he looks and actually, it's kind of cute, the way he gets so curious about anything and everything. He's still a kid.

So Dean doesn't mind spending time with Jack. What bothers him is the sudden increase in time spent with just the two of them together without any sort of reason. At first, he put it down to Jack being clingy. The kid's been through a lot, of course he's going to want to hang around the people he trusts more than being alone. But it's been going on for weeks now and Dean can't tell if he's getting more worried that there's something wrong, or more annoyed that Jack won't tell him what the something wrong is.

Dean still doesn't want to push, though. He doesn't want to risk scaring Jack away. If Jack is comfortable around Dean and Dean has no reason to complain or worry further, he won't bring it up. There's no point in disturbing the kid's peace without proper reason.

Dean does what he can to make it easier for Jack, though. Every so often he'll recommend Jack some music or invite the kid to watch some movies (and sometimes the cartoons that Jack has been watching), just so Jack doesn't feel like he's always the one initiating contact. Sometimes Dean sits next to Jack at the table, the seat right next to the boy like Jack does with him.

He's not entirely sure why he's doing all of this for the kid. It might be the increasing worry building in his stomach as the days pass, but he'll never admit to that out loud.

Deep down, he thinks he's just hoping that Jack will open up, eventually. If he gives the kid time and opportunity, Jack will tell Dean what's bothering him when he's ready.

That doesn't stop Dean watching the kid worriedly when they're alone. Jack catches him one morning when they're both in the kitchen, drinking coffee, eyes meeting Dean's during a short silence. Dean averts his gaze, but Jack has already caught on. "What is it?" Jack asks, a small smile playing on his lips.

Dean lifts his eyes back to meet Jack's, aware that Jack's eyes aren't as bright as Dean is sure they used to be. "Nothing," he says while shaking his head. Jack's expression turns to one of confusion, curiosity that Dean finds hard to resist. "Honest. Just zoned out."

Jack doesn't look at all convinced, just more confused but he's learning when to push for more answers and he seems to decide that now is not the time. "Okay." He takes a sip from his coffee.

Sam's voice echoes from down the hall, quickly followed by Cas's and Dean notices the way Jack's shoulders slump at the sounds.

Dean furrows his eyebrows. "Hey, Jack," he begins, ready to ask one of the questions he's been meaning to ask for weeks.

Sam turns into the room then, just as Jack raises his head to ask what Dean wants. Sam's presence knocks some sense into Dean - he can't go asking Jack these things if they're not alone. He shakes his head again, mumbling, "Never mind."

Jack just lets it drop.

 

* * *

 

It's an evening a few days later that Dean notices something that he doesn't know what to make of.

He's standing at the counter next to the coffeemaker and Jack is at the table, both a box and a bowl of cereal in front of him. There's not really much talking going on today. Dean has a lore book spread out on the table and Jack has a fiction book laid next to his cereal that he's been saying all evening that he's going to read but he's yet to make a start.

As Dean pours coffee into his mug, he chances a glance back at Jack. The kid is reaching forward for his cereal to add more to his bowl (Dean wonders how he can eat so much - where does he put it?), his sleeve riding up enough to reveal some sort of red mark at his wrist.

Dean narrows his eyes, trying to look closer but Jack has already poured the cereal into his bowl and put the box back so he can't see whatever the mark was anymore. Jack is back to eating his cereal and the next thing Dean knows, his hand is burning and he drops the pot of coffee on the counter with a loud, "Fuck!"

Jack jumps as Dean rushes to the sink, immediately shoving his hand under the cold tap. "Dean? What happened?" Jack sounds scared, as expected, as the boy makes his way over to Dean.

"Nothin', kiddo, just lost track of time for a minute. Fucked up my coffee, spilled it everywhere." He forces out a strained laugh but all he can think about is whatever the mark on Jack's wrist was.

Jack nods slowly, opening a drawer to grab a towel so he can wipe up the coffee all over the counter and floor. "Are you okay?" he asks as he wipes at the counter.

Dean chuckles for real this time, dropping his head. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit burned, don't worry about it."

As Jack moves onto cleaning the floor, Dean gets a chance to see the marks again. Each time Jack pushes the towel forward with both hands, his sleeves ride up so the marks become visible - they're on both wrists. Dean can tell the marks reach further than the sleeves allow him to see and it fills him with more confusion and worry than he's felt since Jack started this weird behaviour.

"Jack, when was the last time you came out on a hunt?" Dean asks as casually as he can, shaking his hand beneath the water. The pain is dulling a little, enough for him to do his best to ignore it.

Jack shrugs his shoulders, dropping the towel and leaning back against his feet. "I'm not sure," he mumbles. His demeanour seems less relaxed now, more depressed and Dean does not like that look on the kid. "It's been a while."

"That's what I thought," Dean whispers. That confirms that Jack didn't get those marks on a hunt - hell, Jack rarely ever leaves the bunker as it is. That just adds to Dean's worry though, because now there's no simple explanation for what caused them.

Jack looks confused at the comment, standing. As he does so, Dean notes the kid pulling his sleeves over his hands - he's trying to hide the marks.

But Dean doesn't question it because he doesn't know _how_ to question it. He doesn't know how or what to ask, doesn't know how to approach this because he doesn't know what 'this' is.

Jack may be hiding it, or he may not be. Maybe he's told someone. Maybe he told Sam and Sam is dealing with it. Dean doubts it, but it's possible.

But why would Jack be hiding it? What is it that he's even hiding?

Has this got something to do with how clingy Jack is being? Has Dean seriously taken this long to even begin to figure it out (because this is the first thing that may even be part of the reason that Jack is acting like this that Dean has come across in so long and he's still not any closer to an answer)?

Dean can't find it in him to bring it up. Jack seems peaceful right now as he dumps the towel in the laundry basket and Dean can't find the heart to shatter that.

Maybe later. Maybe he'll wait until the can get the chance to look at those marks more clearly without Jack seeing.

Maybe later. But not now.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Cas are out on some ghoul hunt, leaving Jack and Dean alone in the bunker.

Dean's on his own - in the library, again - for once without Jack, trying to sort out some files but he can't really focus, even though he's trying. He's surprised that Jack is nowhere to be seen, but maybe the kid is enjoying some peace.

Just as Dean is losing the will to live, he hears some sniffling coming from down the hall. He glances up from his files, eyes narrowing at the sound. Either they're being haunted by some depressed as hell ghost, or Jack is crying.

At the realisation, Dean jumps up and begins to make his way towards Jack's room. As he walks, the sniffling gets louder until Dean is standing right outside Jack's door. It sounds like Jack is trying to keep quiet, Dean notes, but the bunker echoes enough that it's still too loud for Dean to not be able to hear.

He hesitates, even though he knows he shouldn't. Jack might want space, given that he isn't around Dean - he might just want to be alone.

Dean can't just leave the kid like this though, he _can't_.

He knocks lightly and pushes the door open a little. "Hey, kiddo," he says, peeking his head inside.

Jack's head snaps up at Dean's voice, immediately wiping at his eyes with his sleeves, as if it's possible that Dean didn't notice his crying. Jack doesn't try to talk, just turns away from the door a little. He has his knees pulled to his chest and he's now facing the wall opposite the foot of his bed.

Dean steps inside, letting the door close behind him despite the fact that the bunker is empty except for the two of them. He's doing his best to conceal his worry, but Jack is crying for some unknown reason and that just adds to the list of things that Dean finds concerning.

Silently, Dean moves forward and sits on the edge of the bed, his side just a few centimetres from Jack's back. The action has Jack turning towards Dean just a little, just enough that Dean can see the side of Jack's face from this angle. Jack's head is resting on his arms as he fights back tears, his arms on his knees. His body is trembling so much he looks like he might explode.

"What's gotten you so riled up?" The words are barely out of Dean's mouth before Jack is twisting his body to curl up against Dean's side. He turns his head into Dean's shoulder and sobs, sounds so broken and scared that Dean doesn't know what to do.

He freezes, just for a second. This isn't usually his kind of situation. He tends to avoid things like this, things that lead to heart-to-hearts and opening up. But this is Jack, and Dean feels different around Jack. Maybe it's because he's a kid, maybe not.

But it's enough for Dean to curl his arm around Jack's side to pull him closer, his own body shaking to match Jack's. Dean curses to himself, rubs his hand up and down Jack's arm in an attempt to calm him but it doesn't seem to do much. "Jack, hey, c'mon. What is it?"

Jack seems to try to shake his head, one of his hands gripping Dean's forearm tightly. Dean decides against pushing more, just for now. He'll let Jack calm down first, figures it'll be easier to talk to the boy if he's not in tears.

As the minutes pass, Jack's grip on Dean's arm weakens, his sobs become few and far apart, and his crying dies down to nothing except a sniffle every now and again. Dean reaches his other arm over to Jack's head as the boy calms, stroking his fingers through his hair to hopefully aid the process.

Eventually, Jack pulls his head away and drops Dean's arm completely - though Dean still keeps it wrapped around his waist. "You ready to talk now?" Dean asks, his voice causing Jack to flinch.

Jack uses his sleeves to wipe at his eyes before dropping his hands to his lap, shrugging his shoulders and pulling at his sleeves. The action reminds Dean of the marks on Jack's wrists, causes his arm to tighten around the boy's waist.

"It got anything to do with these?" Dean continues, bringing his hands to hover over Jack's wrists.

Jack's head snaps up, eyes wide and terrified. "You know?" he whispers. He looks shocked and scared and everything Dean doesn't like to see on such a young boy. Dean nods and Jack immediately drops his head, blinking rapidly. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know it's stupid, and-"

"Woah, woah, woah," Dean interrupts, halting Jack's ramble. Why is Jack apologising? Why is he saying he's done something stupid? Dean's heart pounds and he swallows thickly. "What the hell are you going on about?"

Jack lifts his head slowly, hesitantly bringing his eyes to meet Dean's. "You... You said you knew."

Dean's heart pounds harder with the anticipation. "I know you've got some sort of marks on your wrists. I don't know where they came from," he explains. Jack nods to himself, his eyes slipping closed. Uneasiness settles deep within Dean; there's something wrong here, he's sure of it. "D'you wanna tell me where they came from?"

Jack doesn't even hesitate before he shakes his head. "No, you'll... Dean, you'll hate me."

"Hey, 'course I won't hate you, kid, I promise," Dean encourages, but he's sure his voice shakes because _he_ is shaking and he just wants Jack to tell him what the hell is going on _right now_. "Jack, you're really beginning to worry me."

The confession of Dean's worry must break some sort of resolve inside of Jack because the kid pulls away and meets Dean's eyes again, looking a little less sure and a lot more terrified. "I did it," he breathes, voice so quiet it's almost pathetic.

Dean doesn't understand, not immediately. What does Jack mean, saying that he did it? He did _what_? That makes no sense. "You did what?" he questions, dumbfounded.

Jack's eyes fill with tears, the boy breathing shakily. "It was _me_. The marks - the _cuts_ \- _I_ did it, Dean."

Dean rips himself away from Jack and steps away from the bed, tearing his eyes away as Jack stumbles slightly at Dean's sudden movement. He wipes his hand over his face - he cannot be hearing this right. "You're telling me that you _hurt_ yourself?" he demands while Jack tries to sit himself up straight.

Jack keeps his head lowered. "You're yelling," the kid mumbles. Dean falters; his voice may have come out harsher than he intended but he's worried. He's about nine thousand percent sure that Jack has just admitted to deliberately cutting himself and he can't even begin to comprehend that. "You promised you wouldn't."

Dean forces himself to breathe, kneels down in front of Jack even as Jack continues to avoid looking at him. Jack is hiding his face in his arms as Dean tries to figure out what to say. "You're right, Jack. I'm sorry," he begins, sure to keep his voice level and as quiet as he can. He doesn't need Jack freaking out on him even more. "Can you look at me? _Please_."

Visibly trembling, Jack raises his head just a little so he can meet Dean's eyes. When Dean sends him an encouraging yet shaky smile, he lets his legs drop over the edge of his bed.

"Jack, I need you to tell me what's going on," Dean says to him. Jack's eyes are glistening with tears and Dean wishes he could stop that but they have to talk about what's going through the boy's head. "What I'm getting from this, is that you've cut yourself?" He tries to make it sound like as much of a question as possible so Jack doesn't feel like he's being accused of anything. Jack just nods weakly; Dean tries to ignore the pang of hurt that strikes his heart - now isn't the time to be thinking about himself. "Can you show me?"

The request has Jack's eyes widening but the boy soon nods again, moving his arms out in front of himself. Jack hesitates, as Dean expects, though it's only a few seconds before his hands are finding the ends of his sleeves and he's pulling them up to reveal heavily scarred and cut up forearms.

Dean has to take a second to look away in an attempt to get his bearings, to find a way to force himself to focus on the arms in front of him, on the mess he wishes didn't exist. When he finds the courage to look back at Jack's arms, Dean has to hold his breath to stop himself from yelling out. Jack's arms are littered with fresh cuts that likely aren't even a day old, as well as fading scars that have been caused over weeks, possibly months, and Dean shouldn't be looking at this. These shouldn't be a kid's arms he's looking at, these shouldn't be _Jack's_ arms he's looking at.

Dean latches his hands onto Jack's as a way to ground himself but it just makes Jack whimper, whispering, "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean nods, rests his cheek on one of Jack's hands, the other held tightly in Dean's grip. "I know you are." Jack doesn't seem to relax at that at all, seems even more terrified if his shaking hands are anything to go by. "Why, Jack? I mean, why would you do this to yourself? How could you be so stupid?"

Jack flinches at Dean's slowly rising voice and Dean feels the guilt fill him but he pushes it down, needs to focus on Jack. "I deserve it," Jack mumbles, pulling his hands from Dean's. "I'm so scared that I'm going to go bad, Dean. I've hurt people."

Dean straightens himself. "Yeah, but that was an accident-"

"But I still hurt people," Jack argues, voice rising in volume. "I don't want to be like Lucifer, Dean. I want to be _good_."

Dean scoffs, shaking his head. "So, what? You think you deserve the pain?"

Jack shrinks in on himself, seems to be trying to hide but Dean lets him do as he wants, lets him explain himself in any way he can. "Yes," he says. "Maybe. I don't know. When I had my powers, pain was never really a thing for me. My body healed so fast that I never really had the chance to feel it. Now, I'm different. Everything is different. It reminds me that I'm human."

"You're doing this to yourself so you can remember that you're _human_?" Dean doesn't know if he's angry or what, but Jack had better not be saying that. That kid better not be carving into his own skin just to remind himself that he's lost his powers.

Jack breathes in shakily, sounds seconds away from tears again. "I don't know." He desperately pulls his sleeves down, wipes madly at his eyes. "I read about it online. You're always sending me off to the internet, so I tried to figure out how to make my head stop spinning so much, _all_ of the time. The websites, they all said it was dangerous, unhealthy, but you guys do unhealthy things to cope, too, so I didn't see how it could be too much of a problem."

Dean is ready to stab himself a hundred times in the chest. This is his fault. This is all of their faults. All of their stupid, self-destructive coping mechanisms and leaving Jack to figure things out mostly on his own, all of that led to this. "Why did you first do it?"

A tear slips down Jack's cheek but he doesn't wipe it away. "After I read about it, I was too scared to try. Part of me was scared I'd cut too deep, part of me was even scared of the pain. But the voices wouldn't stop, I couldn't get them to stop."

Dean's eyebrows furrow at that, narrowing his eyes. "I thought you tapped outta Angel Radio when you lost your powers?"

"Not the angels," Jack says, shaking his head. "Voices in my head. Everybody I know, all of you telling me how, eventually, no matter how hard I try, I'll end up like my father."

" _Hey_ ," Dean near yells, grabbing onto Jack's shoulders with enough force to get his attention but not so much that it hurts or scares him. "Lucifer is _not_ your father. _I_ am. Me, Sam, Cas, we're your dads, okay? I'm your dad, and I am so damn proud of who you're becoming. You're not like him, Jack."

"But what if I _become_ like him?" Jack whimpers then, trying his best not to cry. "To bring me back, you all burned away a part of my soul. Castiel says my soul makes me human, makes me care. What if you burned away too much? What if I'm not human enough to stop myself?"

Dean brings his hands to the sides of Jack's face, strokes his thumbs across his cheekbones. "That's not going to happen. You care, Jack, that's what makes you so special. Losing a little bit of your soul, that won't change that. Nothing is going to change that. You're the same as you always were, okay? Just with a little less power."

"A _lot_ less power."

Dean huffs out a humourless chuckle, trying to ease some tension if he can. "Maybe. But that doesn't change things, Jack. With or without your power, you're family. And family is there for you, no matter what. Family has faith in you. _I_ have faith in you. You're not a monster and you're never going to become one."

"You didn't always believe that," Jack accuses, though he sounds anything but angry.

Dean drops his head guiltily. He was too hard on the kid, treated him like crap and he has to live with that for the rest of his life. "I know," he says, glancing up at Jack. "And I am so damn sorry for everything I said to you. I will never be able to forgive myself for that." He clears his throat, ignores the way Jack frowns at his words. "But none of it was true. I sure as hell believed it, but I believed it because I was angry. Cas was dead, Mom was in Apocalypse World and you were an easy target. I took it out on you."

"You really think I can be good?"

The hope shining in Jack's eyes, the tears in his voice, and his simple, childlike innocence both shatters and mends Dean's heart all at once. "'Course I do," Dean promises. "C'mere."

Dean leans forward, curling his hand around the back of Jack's head to pull his head into his shoulder. It's barely even a few seconds before Jack has his arms wrapping around Dean's neck. His nose nuzzles just below Dean's ear and Dean welcomes the action, just holds the kid closer.

"Jack, you gotta stop doing this to yourself," Dean tells him, sounding far too desperate but he doesn't care right now. Jack just sobs, shakes, whimpers. "You could end up _killing_ yourself."

Jack sobs louder, clutching the hair at the nape of Dean's neck. "I'm s-sorry."

"I know," Dean assures, lips against Jack's hair. His arms easily envelop Jack's slim waist, cuddling him like a small child against his chest. "I know you're sorry. But you have to stop, okay? You can't keep hurting yourself."

Jack doesn't talk again, just grips Dean as tightly as possible and keeps crying. Dean doesn't know how the kid has any more tears to produce, but the sounds of Jack's pain is breaking something inside of Dean and he won't be surprised if he starts crying soon.

"Jack," Dean begins, pulling away as Jack's crying begins to die down. He wipes at a couple of the tears on Jack's cheeks, holds the boy's face in his hands. "You're gonna be okay. I promise you. You've gotta talk to me though, okay? If you ever feel like doing that, or if the voices are driving you crazy, then come to me. I don't care if we talk or not, just promise me you'll find me."

"I was doing that," Jack says. "I kept spending time with you because it made everything stop."

"Why me, though?" Dean asks. He would've been sure that Jack would have preferred to spend time with Sam or Cas; Sam is known for being far more understanding than Dean, and Cas is someone Jack has had a bond with for longer than anybody else - Jack 'chose' him before he was even born. Surely he'd have preferred one of them? 

"Sam likes to talk a lot," Jack tries to explain. "I didn't think I wanted to talk, not until now. If I spent more time with him, he'd ask me why and I didn't know how to explain this to him. And Castiel... I don't know. He's out more than you guys and I wouldn't know how to spend time with him. He'd question me far too easily, he always does and he's even harder to talk to." Jack's face falls, and he looks like he isn't satisfied with his explanation. "I tried. Sam recommends cartoons and shows, but he's always so busy that I could never find my voice when it came to asking him to stay and watch with me. Castiel doesn't understand the cartoons and to spend time with him, I had to ask and I had to decide on something to do to pass it off as simply spending time with him." Jacks tears have stopped now and he uses his sleeves to dry his eyes completely, though they're still red and puffy. "You're easy to spend time with, which I didn't expect. I was scared you'd get annoyed if I kept sitting close to you but you never brought it up. You just let me keep doing it and you didn't seem bothered, even if I didn't talk to you or if I talked way too much. Just you being there managed to distract me enough that I kept coming to you."

Dean forces a smile but his eyes burn with tears of his own. "You didn't stop hurting yourself, though."

Jack's jaw clenches. He coughs a little to clear his throat but it's weak and pathetic and he frowns. "I know." Dean wishes he could stop this conversation because Jack seems to just be getting more and more upset as it goes despite how he doesn't seem as uncomfortable as he was at the start. But Jack has to talk. The kid has admitted that he wants to talk, and Dean isn't going to stop him. "You help during the day, you _do_. But it's always worse at night. I can't sleep, I can't do anything to get the voices to stop and I'm always alone. Dean, I _hate_ being alone."

"Hey, you don't have to be alone. _Ever_. Jack, whatever time it is, I don't care. You find me and I will help you. I'll sit with you, talk with you, watch your damn cartoons with you. I don't care. I don't want you being alone, feeling like you have to cut yourself to cope."

Jack's eyes glisten - with hope or simply tears, Dean doesn't know. The kid looks a mix of apprehensive and dumbfounded, like he's scared to trust what Dean is saying all the while praying for it to be true. "What if you're sleeping?"

"Then you wake me up," Dean instructs. "I will stop doing whatever it is that I'm doing, Jack. You just gotta tell me and I won't hesitate."

Jack nods slowly. Dean thinks he's gotten through to him, he's sure he has so he pulls Jack's head down into his chest, encases him in his arms to remind himself that Jack is safe, and to remind Jack that he is safe.

"Promise me," Dean tells him, resting his cheek on the top of Jack's head. "I won't tell anyone, Jack. But you have to promise me."

"I promise," Jack whimpers. He fists the front of Dean's shirt and huddles as close to Dean as he can and Dean has no reason to complain, just hugs Jack tighter. "Thank you, Dean."

"No problem, kiddo."

 

* * *

 

It's barely even twelve hours later when Jack takes Dean up on his offer.

The bunker is still empty save for Dean and Jack, and Dean is on his bed in his room, headphones over his ears as he listens to his music in an attempt to wind down.

He doesn't hear the hesitant knock at his bedroom door, but he catches a glimpse of Jack as the boy steps inside, expression like that of a deer caught in headlights. Jack freezes when Dean makes eye contact, Dean pulling his headphones off as Jack continues to stare.

Dean offers him a gentle smile, but Jack looks like hell. Now that Dean knows everything he knows, he can't help but hate himself for how oblivious he's been. Jack's eyes are hooded, bags beneath them that so clearly indicate that he hasn't been sleeping, all the while being red around the edges that signifies how much he's been crying.

He's been so blind, and Jack has been in so much pain because of it.

Dean gives Jack a second, waiting to see if the boy is going to talk to give him a chance to tell Dean what's wrong. Jack just trudges forward a few steps. "I can't sleep," he whispers. It's so weak and he sounds so defenceless, and Dean can't help but wonder why something so unfair has to be happening to someone as young and innocent as Jack; Jack has never done anything to deserve this.

Dean shuffles to one side of the bed, lifts the quilt and his arm to make space for Jack. Jack still looks disbelieving, like he can't even begin to fathom how somebody might be focusing on him, helping him and it makes Dean want to kill everything and everyone but he resorts to just letting Jack climb in next to him.

Dean lays the quilt over Jack's legs but Jack doesn't lie down, just curls up against Dean's side, rests his head on Dean's shoulder - the action causes Dean's heart to flutter inside his chest. He curves his arm around Jack yet again, pulls him closer, silently promising protection and safety.

"You're gonna be okay, Jack," Dean assures, glancing down to find that Jack has his eyes closed, halfway towards sleeping already. He smiles sadly, pressing a loving kiss to the top of Jack's head. "You're gonna be just fine."


	2. Please, Let Me Take You Out Of The Darkness And Into The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Cas and Sam back in the bunker, Dean can't help but try to watch Jack more closely. Cas's and Sam's presences remind Dean that he's the only one that really knows what's going on and if something happens, it's all on him. He's the one that's aware of how Jack is feeling. He's the one deciding not to tell Cas and Sam. He's the one the blame will fall on if something goes wrong.
> 
> So when Dean finds Jack soaked in blood on the floor of one of the bathrooms, he nearly has a breakdown.

Sam and Cas get back a couple of days later, a little beaten and bruised but otherwise fine.

If Dean is honest, he completely forgot that they were gone. He's been spending his days almost entirely with Jack, so when Cas and Sam come lumbering down the stairs while they're sat in the library, he feels kind of stupid for forgetting that they weren't actually in the bunker.

"How'd it go?" he asks, pretending he remembered that they were due back. He doesn't even really care, he's just trying to make conversation.

Sam drops his bag on the table, oblivious to the way it makes Jack flinch. Dean isn't oblivious, but it just makes him wonder how many times things like that have happened before that he hasn't noticed, things that he should have seen because maybe it could've played a part in helping Jack.

He can't figure out if he's angry at Sam or not. It's hypocritical of him, he knows, but Sam is the observant and invasive one when it comes to other people. Dean likes to ignore things that might lead to an uncomfortable situation - he naturally acts oblivious, likes to change the subject if things aren't okay, if he's with someone that might be struggling. He likes to distract them as opposed to bringing it up if he can. His brain isn't wired to  _talk_ to people - he doesn't really know how. Sam, however, spots even the smallest of things and usually never lets it drop. If there's something wrong with someone, he'll notice and he'll keep bringing it up until they talk to him - Dean has been on the receiving end of that more times than he'd like to admit.

Dean decides he  _is_ kind of angry. Sam was the one who initially took Jack under his wing, who took responsibility for him when Dean refused to even look at the kid Sam was the first of them to really bond with Jack, to understand him. If anyone should've seen what Jack is going through, it's Sam.

But, then again, it took Dean almost a month to try talking to Jack after weeks of knowing something was wrong but refusing to bring it up - and even then he only actually talked to Jack because the kid was in tears. Jack has spent weeks trying to bond with Dean and Dean has ignored that. Sure, he tried to make it easier for Jack and he actively spent time with him whenever possible, but he ignored his instincts that something was wrong and left Jack to it.

It's as much his own fault as it is Sam's.

Sam simply shrugs in response to Dean's question. "There were more than we thought, but it was alright. How were things here?"

Dean sneaks a glance over to Jack, who's already staring at him, waiting for what Dean is going to say. "Uneventful," Dean settles on. "Didn't do much, just a lot of relaxing."

That's about the extent their conversation reaches, Sam disappearing soon after and leaving Dean alone with Jack, something they've both gotten used to and are more comfortable with. Jack continues to stare at Dean for a little while after Sam is gone.

"I promised you I wouldn't tell him," Dean reminds him, earning a weak smile from the boy. "Not if you keep up your end of the deal." Jack's face falls at that, and he drops his gaze. "Jack, you  _are_ gonna be okay. Whether it takes just me, or all of us, you're gonna get better. You're gonna  _feel_ better."

Jack just nods a little, saying nothing more.

Dean takes the hint.

* * *

The next few days pass uneventfully.

With Cas and Sam back in the bunker, Dean can't help but try to watch Jack more closely. Cas's and Sam's presences remind Dean that he's the only one that really knows what's going on and if something happens, it's all on him.  _He's_ the one that's aware of how Jack is feeling.  _He's_ the one deciding not to tell Cas and Sam.  _He's_  the one the blame will fall on if something goes wrong.

So when Dean finds Jack soaked in blood on the floor of one of the bathrooms, he nearly has a breakdown.

It's the early hours of the morning and Dean hasn't fallen asleep yet. He goes for a walk around the bunker, checking each room as he goes - it's a routine he carries out whenever he can't sleep (which is most of the time), as an attempt to relax by seeing that everything is okay. When he reaches Jack's he just peeks inside, expecting to find the kid asleep or with his headphones on, watching something on his laptop.

Instead, he finds an empty room.

Dean tries not to overreact. Jack might be sitting somewhere else. He could be in the kitchen, munching on cereal or some other random food he likes to eat without others noticing (namely Sam, the health freak).

But Dean does overreact. He knows he's told Jack to come to him if he's not feeling good and Jack has been relatively good at that. But since Sam and Cas have come back, there seems to be something holding the kid back, making him reluctant to actually approach Dean. He could be scared, he could be ashamed. Dean doesn't know and he doesn't want to bring it up - a mistake he's made before, he knows, but he just hopes that Jack knows he can open up now, that he doesn't have to hide things.

As Dean starts searching for the kid, he begins to wonder if that was the best decision.

Very quickly, he decides he's an idiot. The last time he had worries and he didn't bring it up, it turned out that Jack was hurting himself right beneath their noses. If he's done the same thing again this time, he doesn't know if he'll be able to forgive himself.

Dean rounds a corner, eyes immediately zoning in on one of the doors that leads to a bathroom, light shining out underneath it. His breath catches in his throat. He tries to convince himself that Jack isn't in there and, if he is, that he's just doing something completely safe and normal. But as he walks closer, his heart pounds harder in his chest, anticipation threatening to swallow him whole.

He stops outside the door, knocks to give Jack an opportunity to answer. "Jack?" he asks, leaning closer to the door to listen. Silence. "You in there?"

Dean knows that it won't be Sam in there - last he checked, Sam was fast asleep in his bed. A rare occasion, but Dean had even whispered Sam's name to make sure he was actually asleep. And it clearly won't be Cas in there, considering the whole angel thing.

When he receives no response, Dean knocks again. He'll give Jack a chance to answer the door on his own before possibly having to force it open instead.

He waits a few seconds more, tries to put it off as long as he can in the hopes that Jack is okay. But when it becomes clear that Jack isn't going to answer, Dean tries the handle. Locked, unsurprisingly. Dean takes a step back, braces himself, then slams his shoulder against the door, causing it to swing open.

Dean stumbles, though he's not sure if it's because of the impact or the sight before him.

All Dean can see is red.

Jack is slumped weakly against the side of the bath, arms and jeans soaked in blood. The blood is _everywhere_. Covering Jack, covering the ground around him.

Dean forces himself to move forward, drops to his knees immediately in front of Jack, ignoring the blood that's now probably covering his own jeans. " _Shit_ ," he curses, voice trembling and full of tears. The kid's eyes are closed, face pale and ghostly and Dean's struggling to tell if he's alive or not.

Hands shaking, Dean lifts Jack's head with his hands underneath his jaw. "Jack? Hey, buddy, c'mon. Wake up," he begs and he doesn't care how weak and pathetic and desperate his voice sounds, he needs Jack to wake up right now and show Dean that he's still alive, that he's okay and he isn't lying dead right in front of him.

"Cas!" Dean yells and it shouldn't be loud enough that it wakes Sam but hopefully, it's desperate enough that even if Cas doesn't hear him, it counts as some form of a prayer and Cas will hear him anyway.

Reluctant to let Jack go but knowing he doesn't have a choice, Dean leans to grab a towel, wraps it as expertly as he can around Jack's arms. Jack stirs then, whimpering quietly but it's enough to lift just some of the weight off of Dean's shoulders. Jack is alive, and Dean has got a chance to make this okay, he's got a chance to fix this.

"You're okay," Dean promises as Jack tries to move, tries to open his eyes. "It's okay, Jack. Just stay still."

Jack's eyes open slightly just as Cas turns into the room, freezing in the doorway.

Even in his dazed state, the reality of this situation seems to hit Jack and he does his best to struggle, even if it's weak and Dean barely has to try to hold him still. "Heal him," Dean demands, pulling Cas from his shock. "Heal him  _now_ , Cas."

Cas comes closer, though his movements are hesitant as he comes to terms with what he's seeing. Jack keeps trying to struggle and the idea that he's trying to avoid getting healed breaks Dean's heart, makes him almost sob but he holds it in, has to because this is about Jack, not himself.

Jack cries as Cas puts his hands above the towel still surrounding Jack's arms. A white light, and Dean knows the cuts are gone, knows everything is okay and nothing is actually bleeding anymore but he struggles to find the strength to lessen his grip on the towels.

Cas brings his hands to Dean's, something semi-comforting that allows Dean to let go just a little, drops the towels that are still blood-soaked. He lifts his gaze to Cas, whose eyes are filled with confusion and shock and a glint that's likely a layer of tears.

"Dean?" Jack whispers, voice weak and croaky and Dean's head snaps up so he can link eyes with Jack's. Jack's eyes look full of fear, full of confusion. "What happened?"

Dean's jaw clenches, anger taking over him without warning. "You almost fuckin' died, that's what happened!"

Jack flinches harshly, pulls his arms away from Dean's hands and he's shaking, Dean can _see_  that he's shaking and his anger dissipates immediately. "I'm sorry," Jack whimpers and then he's crying, full-on sobbing and it's shattering Dean's heart, makes him want to pull Jack into his arms but they have to talk, especially now that Cas knows.

"Jack, tell me why you did this," Dean begs, trying not to cry at the kid's tears. Jack doesn't need to see him cry right now. " _Please_."

Cas is kneeling next to Dean and Dean isn't sure if Jack has fully realised that Cas is here but he's grateful that Cas isn't bringing anything up yet, that he's waiting a little while more. Dean is still trying to come to terms with what has happened, and Cas asking a bunch of questions would just mess with his head. And he knows that Jack wouldn't be able to handle Cas's questions either - it'd probably be what makes him snap.

Jack does his best to wipe his eyes but he's spreading blood everywhere (damnit, Cas, why couldn't you have cleaned up the blood, too?) so Dean reaches forward to grip Jack's hands with his own, tries to anchor Jack on something to focus, to realise that it's okay, he's safe, nobody's angry.

"I didn't mean it," Jack eventually tries to explain. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he's trying to think but it looks like he's in pain, like it's hurting his head to even  _try_ to think. "I swear. I don't know what happened. I just- there was so much more pain than usual and there was red everywhere and I felt so dizzy, Dean, I couldn't _move_."

"Hey, it's okay," Dean promises, sits against the bathtub next to Jack and curls his arm around the kid's side. "You're okay now. I've got you, we've all got you."

Cas seems to deem now a good time to talk. "Jack," he begins but just his voice has Jack whimpering and turning his head into Dean's shoulder, his hands over his ears. Cas sighs, reaches his own hand to Jack's knee but Jack just flinches away, brings his knees to his chest. "Why are you scared?"

Jack sniffles, relaxes his hands just a little but he keeps his head turned away.

Dean already knows that Jack isn't going to answer that question, not yet. So he changes the subject, just a little. "You promised me you'd tell me," Dean reminds him. Jack lets out a guilty noise, curling more against Dean. "Jack, we had a deal. You come to me and I help you. I thought I was helping."

"You were," Jack mumbles, wraps his arms around his knees but stays burrowed into Dean's side. "But I hated that I was putting this all on you. That I couldn't go to the others. I was okay until they came back and then I panicked. I thought I was taking away from your time with them, or stressing you out 'cause you couldn't tell them and I thought if I kept my distance for a little while you might think everything was okay and you'd stop worrying."

"You idiot," Dean growls but any anger is directed entirely at himself. He tightens his grip around Jack's waist, pulls him impossibly closer.

Jack raises his head from Dean's shoulder, finally glances over at Cas, who seems to be waiting patiently. "'M sorry," he says and Dean knows it's directed at both of them and it's an apology for everything he could possibly be apologising for. "You weren't supposed to know. None of you were."

"You would've died if Dean hadn't found you," Cas points out, raising his eyes at the both of them.

"And if I hadn't known, I wouldn't have come looking," Dean continues. He's staring down at the top of Jack's head as the boy refuses to look up at him. "Jack, you have to understand that this isn't right. I didn't tell the others 'cause I wanted to do my best to help you and I didn't think them knowing would be any easier for you to handle. But that didn't work, and I can't just leave you like this."

"You're gonna tell Sam?" Jack whispers. It's not really a question, more of him just stating a fact that fills him with dread.

"I don't want to," Dean begins and Jack laughs bitterly, unconvinced. "Jack, I _don't_. But I warned you that this was dangerous and you promised me you'd come to me. I get that it's hard, but I'm not willing to risk your life, okay? I'm not gonna let you die if I can do more to prevent it."

Jack cries again, this time into his own arms. It's almost silent save for his quick breaths and he's shaking so much. Dean feels guilty, he  _does_ , but he doesn't have a choice. He tried to do it Jack's way, tried to do what he'd be more comfortable with and it worked - for a while. But it relies on Jack finding the strength to talk and Dean knows that can be difficult, knows the kid struggles with opening up. Hell, they _all_ do.

But Jack almost died. Jack almost died and that would've been on Dean. It would've been his fault. His fault for not telling anybody else, his fault for not doing more to help Jack, his fault for not trying to help him sooner. It would've been his fault, and it would've killed him.

"Jack, listen to me. Go and lie down. Cas will go with you to your room, or you can go to mine if you prefer. Don't sleep, just try to relax. I'll be there soon, and we can do what you want: sleep, watch something, sit in silence. I don't care. We can talk about this in the morning. Until then, Sam doesn't have to know."

Cas leans closer to Jack, puts his hand on the kid's shoulder to gain his attention - Jack doesn't flinch this time, which ever-so-slightly lifts Dean's spirits because it means he's calmed down just a little. Jack wipes at his eyes, lifts his head to meet Dean's gaze and he looks untrusting, almost like he's scared to believe Dean but he nods eventually, standing.

Cas leads him out of the room and Dean is alone now so he can finally try to breathe but _damn_ , it's hard. The room smells metallic and he wants to throw up because he's sitting in a pool of Jack's blood, sitting in the room where Jack almost died.

He should clean up, he knows that. But that'll take ages and he should be with Jack right now, keeping the kid close and in his sights _at all times_. He knows Jack said it was an accident and Dean believes him - Jack has talked about a lot of things going on in his head in the past week, but never once has he talked about wanting to die - but it doesn't change the fact that it happened. It doesn't change the fact that every time Dean closes his eyes, all he can see is Jack's pale, lifeless body covered in his own blood.

If this is how close Jack got to dying by _accident_ , Dean doesn't want to think about what would happen if Jack was deliberate. If he decides he wants to die, Dean doesn't think they'll be able to save him.

Dean forces himself to stand, albeit hesitantly, and he stares at the blood, at how much there is, at where it's dyed his normally-blue jeans a dark red. He's binning these clothes, he immediately decides. He doesn't need them reminding him of what happened - the blood is going to be near impossible to get out as is, and he doesn't care enough about them to even begin to clean them.

He takes a step towards the door, away from the blood. He should clean up. What if Sam wakes up and decides to go to _this_ bathroom in particular and sees the mess it's in? He'd freak and Dean would be forced to explain to him what he promised Jack could wait until morning.

In a moment of anger, Dean's fist collides with the wall, a roar of rage ripped from him.

Immediately, he curses to himself, aware that Jack isn't too far down the hall and he doesn't need to be hearing that, doesn't need to be feeling worse about tonight because Dean doesn't blame him. He can't blame him. This is on Dean.

God, he's so _stupid_. How could he let this happen? He knew what Jack was doing, how bad it was. Why didn't he do more? Why couldn't he do more to stop Jack almost killing himself? He took it too lightly, tried to give Jack too much freedom because he thought it was what the kid needed, what would _help_.

Instead, he nearly got Jack killed.

Dean wrings his hand, ignores the pain and makes his way to the laundry room. He's got clean clothes in there and he has to get out of the clothes he's wearing _right now_. When he gets there, he pulls off his jeans, t-shirt, and flannel, shoves them as deep in the bin as he can, and pulls on the clean clothes.

The relief that fills him is instant and welcomed. It doesn't make anything any better, but at least now his clothes aren't covered in Jack's blood. Next, he makes his way over to the sink, turns on the tap and  _scrubs_ at his hands and arms. He's probably turning them red and raw and it hurts, but he doesn't care. Anything to get rid of the blood, the reminder.

It takes a good few minutes, as cleaning dried blood off of skin always does, but eventually, the water stops turning red and Dean turns the tap off.

He steps back, breathes. It doesn't do much to help, but he has to calm himself down because now, he has to find Jack. He heads in the direction of his own room, knows Jack would rather be there since Dean gave him the option. Jack hates his room and though he's never explained why, Dean notices that he always seems different when he's in Dean's.

That makes Dean happier than it probably should.

He stops outside the door, listening inside. He can hear Cas whispering but he can't make out what he's saying, can hear Jack's occasional sniffling which means he isn't crying but he hasn't completely calmed down. Dean waits a few seconds before pushing the door open.

Both Cas and Jack's heads snap up. Cas looks downright heartbroken and Jack looks a mix between exhausted and a guilty puppy - but at least the blood is gone from his face and he's wearing cleaner, more comfortable clothes - and Dean doesn't know who to talk to first. Cas makes that decision for him, stands and moves closer to Dean so as to whisper to him.

"You're blaming yourself," Cas accuses quietly. Dean clenches his jaw. How can he not blame himself? Nobody else knew, and that was his decision to make. If Sam had known, he'd never have given Jack the opportunity to do that to himself and Dean knows that for a fact. Cas would've done exactly the same. Dean is the only one that could've let this happen, that could've been stupid enough to let this happen. "That's not going to help anyone, Dean."

Dean just rolls his eyes, but ultimately chooses to ignore Cas's words. He doesn't have the energy to argue. "Can you clean the bathroom?" He wouldn't ask if Cas couldn't do it with a click of his fingers, but Dean can't stand to be in that room any longer. Cas lowers his gaze and Dean knows he wants to talk more about this, about everything. "Wait 'til morning, Cas, alright? I promise we'll talk then. Just give him a few hours first."

Cas nods and then he's gone, leaving Jack and Dean alone. Jack is still staring at Dean, knees pulled to his chest with a look of pure fear on his face.

"You're angry," Jack states, voice shaking to match his trembling frame.

Dean tries for a small smile and steps closer. "'M not," he says but it does nothing to ease the fear on Jack's face. "Promise. I'm just..." He sits next to Jack, shoulder-to-shoulder. "I don't know. It's not every day you see someone you love like a son almost dead, because of something they did to themselves."

"It was an accident," Jack mumbles, tightening his grip on his knees. "Dean, I swear-"

"I believe you," Dean promises. He brings his arm to rest around Deans shoulders, pulls him closer. "Jack, nothing has changed, okay? I don't hate you, I'm not disappointed in you. I still love you."

Jack scoffs to himself, shaking his head. "You shouldn't," he whispers. "I let you down."

"You didn't let me down," Dean argues. " _I_ let  _you_ down, Jack. This is on me."

Jack's head snaps up. His eyes are wide, eyebrows furrowed. "You didn't do anything.  _I_ brought that blade to my own arm. How could this be your fault?"

"I was the responsible one," Dean says. He wishes they didn't have to talk about this now - his heart hurts enough as it is and he wants to do his best to forget about it, at least until morning but Jack is talking and never again is Dean going to stop him talking. "I knew you were hurting yourself, and I left you to your own devices. I shouldn't have done that. I should've kept you safe."

Jack lowers his gaze. He doesn't say anything, just leans more against Dean.

Dean doesn't know what he should do about this. He feels like he  _has_ to tell Sam. But it'll break him. It'll break both of them. Sam will be heartbroken if he finds out what Jack has been doing to himself, even more so at the fact that they both hid it from him. And Jack - well, Dean doesn't know how it'll affect Jack. Sam was the first to welcome Jack into their family, to accept him even if he was the son of Lucifer. For Sam to know that he's self-harming, that'll probably be a mix of terrifying and a sense of growing disappointment with himself. He'll feel like he's failed Sam.

But Dean needs to tell Sam. He will do anything it takes to stop this happening again. And as much as he hates the idea of Sam bombarding Jack with questions and barely giving him time to himself, Dean will take that over Jack managing to slit his wrists deep enough to kill himself, even if it is an accident.

Dean cards his fingers gently through Jack's hair, the action having Jack push against the feeling slightly. His heart is full of guilt because he knows Jack would rather him do anything than tell Sam. But Cas already knows and they haven't even had the chance to talk to him about much of this. There's going to be so much explaining to do in the morning and Dean doesn't know if either of them are going to be able to handle it.

"It'll be okay," he promises to Jack, though it feels more like an attempt to convince himself.

Dean just sighs.

Roll on the morning.


	3. Suppressed By All My Childish Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's never hated himself more. He should be able to fix this, he should be able to make it better for Jack. He's the adult in this situation, the one who's supposed to hold all of the answers but he knows nothing, has nothing.

Jack falls asleep at some point within the following hour.

They've moved to the top of Dean's bed, Dean leaning against the headboard and Jack still curled up against Dean, leaning into his side. Dean is stretched out with his laptop on his knees, watching some weird thing that Jack initially put on but Dean can't find the energy to change it, even though Jack is now sleeping.

When the show ends, Dean doesn't bother turning it off, just chucks the laptop to another part of the bed. He won't be able to focus on anything else anyway, not with Jack slumped against him and the thoughts that are going through his head. In just a couple of hours, he has to find the heart to wake the kid up and they're going to have to talk about things that Dean really doesn't want to talk about.

Talking about this stuff with Jack, it's... It's hard,  _really_ hard, but Dean can handle it. Sure, it hurts and it breaks his heart, but there's something about it just being the two of them that makes it semi-bearable. When it's just himself and Jack, he feels like he can talk about it, feels like Jack doesn't struggle to talk about it, that he's comfortable.

But they're going to have to bring the others into it. They're going to have to sit with Cas and Sam - one at a time, he hopes - and tell them everything that Jack has talked about these past weeks. Dean is going to have to tell them everything they hid from them, everything Jack has been going through that they've missed.

They're going to feel unimaginably guilty - well, not so 'unimaginably'. Dean knows exactly how they'll feel, feels it a thousand times worse because at least they can't be blamed for Jack almost killing himself. Dean is never going to be able to forgive himself for that.

He still can't decide if he's making a terrible decision. Cas already knows, so they have no choice but to talk to him. But Dean hasn't had much of a chance to gauge his reaction. He could tell that Cas was shocked - of course he was, who wouldn't be? - but Dean couldn't tell what he was thinking. He couldn't tell if he was angry (at himself, Dean, or Jack), upset, in disbelief, or all of those things combined.

Dean has no way to prepare himself for what's to come, so how can he even begin to prepare Jack?

Telling Sam, that's going to be the worst thing. At least with Cas, there was never an initial 'Jack's self-harming' kind of thing - everything happened so quickly that there was never really time to prepare or think too much because of what was going on with Jack. With Sam, they're going to have to sit him down; he's going to know something's wrong, and they're going to have to start the whole conversation with no way of easing Sam into it, no way to even try to explain without being extremely blunt.

It's going to go terribly.

Dean sighs loudly, causing Jack to stir but the kid stays asleep. Dean lifts his hand to the side of Jack's head, strokes his fingers through his hair and rests his cheek on the top of his head. He wishes he could do anything to save Jack from all of this, to make it so he doesn't have to be going through any of this. He'd trade places with the kid in a heartbeat, if only he could.

But he can't, and he's never hated himself more. He should be able to fix this, he should be able to make it better for Jack.  _He's_ the adult in this situation, the one who's supposed to hold all of the answers but he knows nothing, has nothing.

Dean's alarm suddenly goes off and he jumps, reaches over to his desk to turn it off as quickly as he can but Jack is already stirring awake. Dean clenches his jaw, curses himself silently because he wanted the chance to psych himself up before having to face Jack (no offence, kid). He wanted to prepare himself for waking him up and answering all of the questions Jack might end up asking but now there are tired blue eyes staring up at him.

Dean chucks his phone to the bottom of the bed next to his laptop, trying to hide his frustration as Jack sits himself up straight and pulls away from Dean. "What time is it?" Jack asks, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Six," Dean answers. He notices the drop in Jack's shoulders. "Sorry, kid. I didn't want Sam walking in while we talk to Cas and he's an early riser most of the time."

Jack just nods. He pulls one knee to his chest, rests his chin on it and keeps the other leg stretched out in front of him. "It's fine," he mumbles with a shrug of his shoulders. "Guess I don't really have much of a choice about things any more."

Dean swallows thickly. "Jack-"

"It's okay," Jack interrupts. He forces a small smile at Dean but his eyes are full of tears and Dean knows this is anything but 'okay'. "Really. It's my own fault. I was stupid, I messed up. I shouldn't have been so careless."

Dean doesn't say anything to that, doesn't know  _what_ to say so he figures it best he just stay silent. He watches as Jack's eyes move to his arms, hands following and he pulls up one of his sleeves. Immediately, his eyebrows furrow and he hurriedly pulls up the other, which doesn't seem to ease the confusion on his face.

"I thought..." he whispers, but he trails off.

"What?" Dean asks, leaning closer.

Jack shakes his head slowly. "I thought Cas would've gotten rid of it all." Dean looks, and finds that Jack's arms still hold all of the scars they did when he last checked them. Everything is there, except for the cuts he made last night. "I didn't think they'd still be there."

Dean doesn't know how to feel about that. He wishes Cas had cleared it all, gotten rid of the reminder of what Jack has been doing to himself. But it's not really his choice. Jack might want them there, for whatever reason. He might not want to lose that reminder, as much as Dean doesn't understand that.

He doesn't mention that either, though, just reaches over and pulls Jack's sleeves back down. When the ends of the sleeves reach Jack's wrists, Jack's hands immediately latch onto Dean's, gripping tightly - almost desperately - and he stares at Dean with wide, terrified eyes.

"You'll be there?" Jack questions. His voice is so small and desperate and Dean's heart already can't take this. "With Cas, and... and Sam? You won't leave?"

Dean tries for a reassuring smile but he's not sure how much reassurance he can really give, considering he doesn't know how any of this is going to go down, not really. "I'm going nowhere, Jack. Unless you want me gone, I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Jack whispers, forcing out a small laugh but it's full of tears. "I don't think I can do this on my own."

Again, Dean stays silent. He should reassure Jack, should promise him that he never has to do this alone but he doesn't feel that would do any good.

Or maybe he's just being selfish. God, he has  _got_ to stop feeling sorry for himself. This is supposed to be about Jack, Dean is supposed to be trying to help him but he can't help thinking about last night, can't stop seeing Jack in that state.

If he'd been just a few minutes slower, Jack would be dead.

Dean can't get over that. He wants to, but he _can't_. If he couldn't do enough to stop Jack from getting to that place, what's to say he's doing enough now? How is he supposed to know if he's making the right decision, or if he's making a horrible mistake - _again_? He's got nothing to go off of. First, he tried to do what Jack was most comfortable with. He kept it between the two of them, spent time with the kid as much as he could. That didn't work. Now, he's doing something that terrifies Jack, something that Jack would probably rather do anything but. For all Dean knows, this is just another terrible decision and this time, he's just going to get Jack killed.

Dean shakes his head, forcing himself from his thoughts. If he gets lost thinking, he's leaving Jack alone and Jack's thoughts are going to be a lot worse than his own. He has to think about the kid right now, not himself.

"You ready to go now, or d'you wanna wait?"

Every time Dean says something, Jack's mood seems to drop further and further into darkness and Dean wishes he'd just  _stop_ making things worse. "I guess we should just get it over with.

He sounds like he'd rather be saying anything but that, but Dean takes that as his decision. Jack has a point. The sooner they get this over with, the sooner they can forget. Except that's not true, because Dean will never forget this and he doesn't doubt that Jack won't either.

They still have to get this over and done with, though, and the sooner they do that, the sooner Jack can come to peace with the decision. Maybe once they've told the others, Dean can leave it to them to help Jack. He hasn't been much use, so maybe if he lets them take over, Jack might actually get the help he needs.

"C'mon," Dean says, forcing himself to stop thinking. "Cas'll be waiting."

He stands, waits for Jack to stand and then they begin to make their way to the kitchen, where Dean assumes Cas will be. He doesn't know why he thinks Cas will be there, considering there are more comfortable places he could be but, even if he isn't there, all Dean has to do is pray and Cas will come. The kitchen is an open enough space for them to talk in, is hopefully large enough that everything will seem less suffocating.

Cas is there. He's sitting at the table, arms resting on the table in front of him and he seems lost in thought, if not in prayer. Dean hesitates in the doorway, lets Jack step in front of him before he curves his arm around Jack's shoulders to lead him closer. He clears his throat to gain Cas's attention as they near in on him and Cas's eyes snap over to them, demeanour immediately becoming more depressed.

Dean swallows as he sits at the other side of the table from Cas, but he leaves the seat directly across from the angel for Jack. Jack slumps in his seat, head hanging low. There's silence for a few moments and Dean reaches his hand over to Jack for some form of encouragement. Jack grabs Dean's hand with his own, grip tight and Dean is surprised, but he makes no move to pull away even though Cas is here.

Anything to make this better for Jack.

Jack still makes no move to speak, though. Dean doesn't doubt that he doesn't have any clue where to start, or what to say. He shuts his eyes, focuses on Cas and says in his head  _maybe start with questions, Cas_. He opens his eyes straight away, momentarily locks eyes with Cas and he knows Cas heard him.

"Jack," Cas begins. Jack flinches harshly at his voice, squeezing his eyes shut. Dean tightens his grip on his hand, willing Jack to relax. "You don't have to be scared."

Jack laughs bitterly, shaking his head. He's still silent and Dean really wishes Cas would just start with the questions already so Jack can start talking. He knows from experience that once Jack has started talking, it's really easy to keep him talking.

"I'm not angry," Cas continues. "I'm just very confused. I don't understand why you'd bring deliberate harm to yourself."

Jack is shaking, Dean can feel his hand shaking and he shuffles his chair closer to him, preparing himself for if Jack snaps. "I wanted to suffer," he whispers. Dean lets out a silent breath of relief - he was starting to worry that Jack wasn't going to talk at all. "I wanted to feel pain. I've hurt others, I'm _going_ to hurt others. I wanted to inflict the pain that I inflicted on them on myself instead."

"So it was a punishment?" Cas asks, earning a nod from Jack. "Why something so dangerous?"

Jack gulps. "I didn't think it would  _be_ dangerous," he admits, glancing briefly at Dean. "The internet said it was dangerous, and Dean warned me. But I didn't think anything bad would really happen, not until last night." Dean strokes his thumb across Jack's knuckles, aware that Jack is trembling more violently than before, like a bomb ready to go off at any moment. He wants to calm him down, but he doesn't want to interrupt and risk making things worse. "Please don't think I meant to do it. It was an accident, Cas. I was reckless and I messed up but I never wanted it to happen."

"I believe you," Cas promises. "But that doesn't necessarily mean we can forget about it. It may have been an accident, but you could have died and that isn't something to be ignored. As dramatic as it may sound, your life is in danger."

Dean raises an eyebrow. It does sound dramatic, but it is true. It's hard to say it but Jack is a threat to himself, a danger to his own life. It's ironic that Jack came into this world with everyone worrying that he'd be a danger to others but he's just ended up being a danger to himself.

Jack visibly clenches his jaw. He drops his head, inhaling deeply and Dean can see that he's trying to keep calm, trying to reign everything in.

"Jack," Cas begins, and Dean has no idea what he's about to say.

Jack flinches at his voice. Dean bites his lip; he can tell that this is getting to be too much for Jack, that he's crumbling and Dean doesn't know how much longer Jack is going to be able to go without breaking. "I don't want to talk about this any more," Jack mumbles, voice strained.

Dean frowns, moves even closer to him. "Jack, we  _have_ to," he reminds him. "Even if you can't manage to talk to Cas, we still have to tell Sam."

"Tell Sam what?"

Everyone's heads turn towards the door. Sam is stumbling into the room, looking exhausted but is somehow still wide awake. Dean internally curses himself and Sam; himself for being stupid enough to say that exact thing as Sam happened to walk into the room, and Sam for being such an early riser.

Before Dean or Cas even have the chance to say anything, Jack is ripping his hands from Dean's and rushing out of the room, brushing past Sam's side as he goes. Sam steps backwards, eyebrows raised in shock and confusion.

"What's going on?" he asks, staring at Cas and Dean.

Dean stands, ignoring Sam's question. Jack has to be there when Sam finds out - Jack has to be the one to tell him. He sends Cas a knowing look, silently warning him not to say anything about this to Sam and, continuing to ignore his brother, goes to find Jack.

He heads straight for Jack's room, heart pounding. He knew it would be hard for Jack to tell Sam, knew the kid would struggle because of how much he looks up to Sam, but he thought it might turn out okay once Jack started talking. Now, he's not so sure. If Jack couldn't even open up to Cas, Dean doesn't think there's much hope for when it comes to talking to Sam.

He pushes the door to Jack's room open, finds Jack pacing quickly at the foot of his bed. The kid is crying and Dean has seen him cry so much that he should be numb to it by now but it just makes him feel worse every time he sees it, makes him feel like crap because it just reminds him that he's not helping, that he's doing nothing to make this better.

"Jack," Dean says, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind himself.

Jack freezes at Dean's voice, turning away from the door so his back is facing Dean. "Please go away," he whispers, voice breaking.

Dean takes another step closer, shaking his head even though he knows Jack can't see him. "You know that's not gonna happen, bud," he says. He steps closer again, hesitant because he's scared that Jack is going to break, that Dean is going to be the one to break him.

"I don't want you here," Jack tries to yell but his voice is so weak and shaky and Dean knows he's just hurting, that he doesn't really mean it.

"Too bad, 'cause you got me whether you like it or not."

Jack's shoulders slump and Dean takes the final step closer so he's standing right behind Jack. He's trying to decide whether he should pull Jack into a hug or if that might make things worse. He's so damn tired of making things worse.

Jack sniffles, still facing away from Dean. "I can't do it," he mumbles, wiping at his eyes. "I can't tell him, Dean, I  _can't_ -"

Dean decides to get over himself and grabs Jack's arm to turn him around before pulling Jack's head onto his shoulder. Jack lets out a pathetic sob, wrapping his arms weakly around Dean but his hands grip the back of Dean's shirt tight enough that Dean can feel it.

"I know," Dean says. He has one hand curved around the back of Jack's head, the other hand's thumbs rubbing small circles against Jack's shoulder. "I know you're scared. I know it's hard. But you don't have a choice, Jack, I'm sorry."

Jack's whole body tenses and his grip around Dean tightens. "I wish you hadn't found me," he exclaims, voice full of venom and hurt.

Dean freezes for a moment, eyebrows furrowed. "W-What?" He pulls away from Jack, hands on Jack's shoulders.

Jack's eyes are narrowed and he looks so angry, so miserable. "Last night," he clarifies, voice thick with resentment. "I wish you hadn't come looking for me. Or it took you longer to find me. _Anything_ that means you hadn't managed to save me."

Dean's breath hitches in his throat. He coughs to try and cover it up but he's going to cry, he knows he is. "You don't mean that," he argues.

"I do," Jack whispers and Dean wishes he didn't believe him, wishes there was a part of him that doubted what Jack was saying but Jack sounds so hurt, so defeated and Dean is terrified he does mean it, that he might act on it. "At least then I wouldn't have to talk to Sam. I wouldn't have you and Cas constantly worrying. You could forget about me."

" _Don't_ fuckin' say that!" Dean near-yells, and he wishes he sounded angry but his voice is shaking and he can't handle this, he can't, he can't, he _can't_. "Jack, you don't- Don't-" Dean can't talk. He's so close to crying, he can  _feel_ it. He squeezes his eyes shut, pinches the bridge of his nose, anything to stop the tears that are threatening to spill over.  _Don't cry, don't cry_. "Fuck!"

Dean has to turn away to stop Jack seeing the tears. He's trying so hard to stop them but it's useless. He can't be listening to this. It was hard enough listening to Jack talking about hurting himself, about how he hates himself so much that the only thing he can do to make himself feel better is to carve into his own skin. But listening to Jack say he wishes he was  _dead_... Dean did  _not_ sign up for this. Jack came to him for help, came to  _Dean_ as an escape and things have only managed to get worse.

"Dean?" Jack asks, stepping closer. Dean angles his face away, willing the tears to stop rolling down his cheeks but they keep coming, faster and stronger and all he wants is for Jack to  _not_ notice. "Are you crying?"

Welp, there goes that. Dean forces a bitter laugh, giving up on trying to hide it. He turns back to face Jack, noticing the look of shock on his face because okay, Dean does not cry often. Hell, Dean barely cries at all. But he thinks this situation warrants shedding a few tears, so he really doesn't care.

"'Course I'm fucking crying!" Jack flinches backwards at Dean's yelling and Dean might feel guilty if he wasn't so pissed off. Not at Jack, just at this whole situation. "You just told me you wish you were _dead_. What, am I supposed to be happy about that? About the fact that you think it wouldn't affect us, that it wouldn't affect  _me_?!"

"I..." Jack's eyes are wide and he looks terrified, like he doesn't understand what's happening.

"Why d'you think I'm trying to help you? For the hell of it?" Dean wishes he could shut up, wishes he'd stop talking before he says something he'll regret but he's been holding a lot of these feelings in for weeks and they're coming out like a tidal wave and he doesn't know how to stop it. "I'm not asking you to tell Sam to  _hurt_ you. I'm doing this  _for_ you. I'm trying to keep you alive, Jack, you have to understand that." Jack doesn't look any less confused, but he looks a little less scared. "I  _failed_ you. You came to me for help, you came to me because you were scared, but you still almost died. If I hadn't found you last night, your blood would've been on my hands."

More confusion. "That's not true. I-"

"You don't get it," Dean interrupts. His tears have stopped now but he's no less miserable. "You would've been the one who managed to kill yourself, but it would've been my fault.  _I_ left you alone. I knew how much you hated being on your own, especially at night, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Figured you would come to me if it got too bad. Hell, even before that, I left you for weeks when I knew something was wrong, believing you'd tell me what it was eventually. I ignored my instincts and because of it, you almost died. No matter how much you want to blame yourself, you did nothing wrong. You're hurting, and you acted because of that. You were relying on me and I let you down."

Now Jack is crying again and Dean hates himself more, somehow. Jack drops his head, steps way from Dean and sits on the edge of his bed and Dean is terrified he said too much, that he's completely freaked Jack out because he kind of said everything that's been going through his head since last night and he's been doing his best to hide that all from Jack because he doesn't know how the kid will take it.

Dean forces himself to calm down as much as he can before kneeling down in front of Jack. Jack has his face hidden in his sleeve-covered hands and he's shaking, still crying and Dean feels like crap. "Hey," Dean whispers, voice as quiet as he can manage. He brings his hands to Jack's wrists but doesn't force him to lift his head, just holds gently. "I'm trying to do what's best for you. If you're seriously wishing you were dead, if you're even  _slightly_ considering trying to kill yourself, then I have to do everything I can to keep you safe. You think we'd get over it, but it'd fucking break me, Jack. We've lost you once before, but that was something nobody could prevent. If we lost you now, because of  _this_ , I wouldn't be able to get over that. I would've had the opportunity to save you, and I would've failed. And... telling Sam - Jack, that's the only way I can know for sure that there's always someone watching out for you. You're all I've been able to think about for weeks, but I've already proven that I'm not enough. And I know for a  _fact_ that Sam will do right by you, that if anyone can help you, it'll be Sam. And he'll have Cas's help, and they'll get you better."

Jack sniffles, uses his sleeves to wipe at his eyes. He pulls his wrists from Dean's grip, eyebrows furrowed. "You're giving up on me?"

God, he sounds so helpless and Dean is heartbroken and he wishes he wasn't having to say these things but he doesn't have a choice. Jack has to understand why he's making the decisions he is. "No, of course not," he says, moving closer. "I'm giving up on  _me_. Jack, I will always be here for you, whatever you need. You don't have to talk to Sam about anything after we talk to him together, not if you really don't want to. But I need to know that Sam knows, that somebody else might go looking for you if I don't notice you're missing. I need to know that I've done everything I can to keep you safe because I love you so god damn much, and I can't lose you, okay? I _won't_ lose you."

Dean has to stop talking before he breaks down again. He's cried enough in front of Jack - he shouldn't be crying at all, shouldn't be showing this much weakness but it's the only way he might possibly be able to get through to Jack.

Jack stares at Dean for a few seconds, frowning deeply. "I want to make you proud," he finally mumbles. His eyes are shining but they're so damn dull and Dean misses the childlike innocence they used to hold, the brightness and the happiness that Dean doesn't remember the last time he saw. "I want to do what you want me to do. Deep down, I want to tell Sam. I just don't think I  _can_."

Dean brings his hands to the sides of Jack's neck, just below his jaw, his thumbs stroking just below Jack's ears. "I'll be there the whole time. You won't be alone, Jack, I swear to you. And I'll do my best to make it as easy for you as I can, but it has to be you that tells him."

Jack nods, eyes slipping shut, and Dean just continues massaging below the kid's ears, hoping that he's helping just a little. There's silence for a few minutes while Jack's breathing slowly evens out and Dean does his best to reign in his emotions, tries to calm himself down.

They're interrupted by a knock at the door, Jack flinching at the sound. Dean pulls one hand away from Jack so he can turn to face the door, but the other stays where it is and he can feel Jack lean against it. The sensation fills him with just a little bit of pride.

Cas steps into the room, looking flushed. "Sam won't stop asking questions," he says as soon as the door shuts behind himself. "He's worried."

Jack tenses under Dean's hand and Dean curses silently; the kid had been relaxing, he'd been feeling better and that entire process is about to be undone. "Yeah, well, he's gonna have to wait," Dean tells him, turning his head back to Jack. "Jack needs a little bit longer."

Cas frowns, staring at Jack for a few seconds but Jack has his gaze lowered, angled just perfectly enough that Dean can see a layer of tears brimming his eyes. He sighs internally but tries to keep a calm exterior. Of course Jack is upset, of course he's  _going_ to be upset, Dean knows that. But he still hates it, still hates that he can't make it better or easier or anything that makes this just a little bit less of a horrible situation.

When nobody says anything for a while, Cas turns to leave.

"Wait," Jack calls out. Cas halts, turns back to face Jack and Dean. "I, uh... I wanted to ask you something."

Cas looks elated, almost, and Dean knows how he feels. When Jack goes through a period of silence, of being completely overwhelmed that he  _can't_ talk to you, to somehow managing to break through that  _through choice_ \- it's a damn wonderful feeling, makes Dean feel like he's on top of the damn world.

Cas makes his way closer to Jack and Dean, stands a little away from Dean to keep space though he kneels at Dean's height (which Dean kind of finds weird, but he doesn't mention it). "Of course, Jack. What is it?"

Jack doesn't look at Cas, not right away. He lifts his head, meets Dean's eyes and Dean doesn't know what he's asking but he sends Jack a supportive smile nonetheless, hopes that that makes a difference. It must do because Jack inhales and manages to turn his head to Cas.

"My arms. They, um, still have all of the scars," he tries to explain. Dean raises an eyebrow, realising what Jack is asking and he's kind of curious of the answer, too. "Why? Like, why didn't you get rid of the scars?"

Cas narrows his eyes, looking almost guilty. "I apologise, Jack," he answers and Dean wonders whether his apology is necessary, whether Jack wishes they were gone or not. Dean wishes they were gone, but that's because he hates what they stand for but Jack might view them entirely differently. "When I healed you, I could not see your arms and my focus was on stopping the cuts that were bleeding. In the moment, I was not aware there  _were_ other scars. If you wish, I can-"

"No," Jack immediately interrupts, pulling his arms away from Cas. Dean keeps a firm but gentle grip beneath Jack's ear, holding him in place but not forcing him into place, and he swears Jack is trembling slightly beneath his hold but he doesn't let on that he's noticed because it might mean anything. "I-I don't want them gone. Besides, it might be hard explaining this to Sam if I can't show him."

He tries for a small laugh to maybe ease the tension but Dean only now realises that he's the only one Jack has actively shown his arms to and now the kid has to show Sam because he's right - Sam is going to have to see his arms if he's going to really understand what Jack is trying to tell him. And Jack only showed Dean because Dean asked him to, because Dean had already known that there was something there and Jack was hiding it. Sam has no clue. All Sam knows is that something is up with Jack and that Dean probably knows what it is - which means Jack has to actively show his arms and Dean isn't convinced that Jack will be able to do that.

A few seconds later, Cas nods and leaves the room and Jack and Dean are left in silence, Dean unsure of what to say. Jack is still shaking a little and Dean wishes Cas hadn't come in and undone all of the calming Dean had managed to make sure happened. But it's not as if Jack is going to be calm for much longer, so Dean doesn't know what he's complaining about.

"What do you want to do?" Dean asks, angling his head to lock eyes with Jack.

Jack is frowning, eyebrows furrowed and Dean can't even begin to imagine what a mess the kid's head is, all of the things he must be thinking about. "I... I don't know," he eventually mumbles. He drops his head but he keeps his eyes linked with Dean's. "I don't think I'm ready quite yet. Could we maybe get some food first?"

Dean grins, stomach rumbling at just the thought. "'Course, kid," he says. "You want me to whip something up? Or d'you wanna go find a cafe?"

Jack's eyes light up a little, a tiny bit of a childlike glint returning. "Can we go somewhere that does pancakes?"

Dean rolls his eyes but he wouldn't even begin to complain. This is one of the few normal conversations they've had for days and even if Dean isn't forgetting about everything that's going on, the thought that he might be taking Jack's mind off of it for just a little while is enough for him.

"Whatever you want," Dean says and he kind of wishes he didn't sound so attached right now, like he'd literally do  _anything_ Jack wants (even if that's true) because he isn't a sap and he doesn't want to come across as sappy. "Get ready. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

Jack swallows, nods, and Dean takes that as his cue to leave and head back to his own room. He changes as quickly as he can, pulls on a black t-shirt, a red flannel and some jeans, then pulls on clean socks and shoes. He grabs his keys and makes his way back to Jack's room, then knocks.

"Jack? You good?"

Jack calls back  _yeah_ and Dean pushes the door open and looks inside. Jack is sat on the edge of his bed, fastening his trainers. He's wearing a black sweater and jeans, which doesn't surprise Dean at all if he's honest. There's also the tiniest, faintest smile spreading across his lips and it makes Dean's heart melt.

"You ready to go?" he asks.

Jack stands, smiles slightly bigger, and nods enthusiastically. Dean wonders if it's just the prospect of pancakes that's making him happy. At this point, he doesn't really care, so long as there's _something_ that's bringing the kid some joy.

They head towards the exit, walking past the library as they go.

"Where are you two going?" a voice asks just as they reach the foot of the stairs.

They both freeze, recognising the voice as Sam's. Jack is standing on the first step while Dean is still on the ground so he's just slightly taller than Dean, but Dean can feel him crouch slightly behind him, trying to hide from Sam's view.

Dean takes a breath, glancing over at Sam. "Jack wants pancakes," he says, noticing Sam narrow his eyes. "And I need a break from this place."

Sam shrugs his shoulders, stands up. "Alright. I'll come with. I could do with some breakfast."

" _No_ ," Jack squeaks and Dean jumps. He didn't expect Jack to talk at all right now, not in front of Sam with what's happened. Sam's face falls at Jack's voice and when Dean turns to look at the kid, he can see that his eyes are filled with so much guilt. "S-Sorry. I just... I want to be with Dean."

His voice is shaking so much and Dean's surprised he's even managing to string a sentence together but  _damn_ , is he proud. This is the first step to Jack talking to Sam and okay, it's Jack telling Sam he wants him to go away, but at least it's _something_.

Jack immediately turns and continues walking up the stairs and, with raised eyebrows and a slow intake of breath, Dean follows him, not glancing back at Sam. He feels kind of bad for his brother, but Sam's a big boy - he can handle.

They continue their journey towards the Impala and climb inside.

"I'm proud of you," Dean says once they're comfortable. It comes out before he even realises he's talking, so he wouldn't have managed to hold that back if he'd tried.

Jack's eyebrows shoot upwards, shock evident on his face. "Wh-What? Why?"

"For managing to speak to Sam," Dean clarifies. He sees Jack go to argue. "Hey, look, I know it doesn't seem like the same thing to you. But it's a start, okay? You managed to say _something_ , at least. And I'm proud."

Jack opens and closes his mouth as if to speak, but Dean seems to have managed to render him speechless. He notices Jack's cheeks turn slightly red and a dumb grin spreads across his lips, like he can't stop it.

That smile doesn't disappear for the whole car ride.


End file.
